by Mj Fields
“Sure are, bud, you sure are.”
“See you soon, Dad?” he whispers.
“Soon, bud. Love you, Brand.”
“Love you, Dad.”
We disconnect.
I sit back and rest my head on the back of the couch, taking in a few long, deep fucking breaths.
What a fucking mess.
My phone rings, and I look at it. Grayson.
“Where are you?” I answer.
“Heading to your place.”
“You’re in New York?”
“Yeah.”
“Have you heard from Garrett?”
“A couple days ago. He was heading to Vegas.”
“Life’s a big fucking party, isn’t it?” I spew.
“Look, not all of us were born thirty fucking years old with the ability to not fucking feel, Gage. He’s working through his shit. So am I. And you...You’re just working.”
I want to fucking go off on him, but I need his ass here, so I hold it fucking in...for Brand.
“How long before you get here?”
“Ten minutes. And Gage, don’t tell Mom or Dad. I don’t want to deal with their shit right now.”
“Didn’t plan on it.”
Fifteen minutes later, the elevator opens and Grayson walks in with a guitar strapped to his back.
“You play guitar now?” I ask as he lets the strap slide down his arm.
“Yeah, just picked it up ten years ago, asshole.” He smirks as he looks down.
I want to fire a million questions at him, because I need fucking answers. And although he’s not a dick like Garrett, he at least stays in contact. Getting angry will push his ass back to wherever he’s been.
“You want a drink?” I ask.
He nods, running his hand through his mess of hair. “Yeah, I’d like one.”
I fix him a drink as he sets his guitar and bag down by the door.
“Why don’t you put that in the bedroom?”
“You asking me to stay?” he asks, almost shocked.
“Yeah, I’m asking you to stay.”
He hesitates before saying, “Okay.”
When he leaves the room, I send Cyrus a message.
- Possible location: Vegas. Should know more soon.
His reply is immediate.
- On it.
When Grayson comes out, he sits on the couch, and I hand him his drink, then sit beside him.
“How’s Brandon?”
I shake my head. “Good. Lost a tooth.”
He smiles. “That’s cool.”
“Yeah, big deal for a kid,” I grit out.
“And he’s with Juliana,” he says, knowing how much it pisses me off.
“Yeah.”
“Sorry, man, that sucks. I know how much you love him.”
I look at him, waiting for him to say more. He doesn’t.
“Look, I was going to make all sorts of small talk so you won’t take off, but there is no way I can sit here and pretend things aren’t fucked up.”
“I can tell.” He takes a drink.
“Garrett is Brand’s father.”
He stops drinking immediately, sets the glass down on the table, looks up at me, and shakes his head. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“How did you find out?”
“Did you fucking know?” I ask through clenched teeth.
“No...Well, maybe. Fuck, Gage, I don’t know.”
“I’d really love a fucking explanation before I lose my shit.”
“They were fucking for a year before her and you started.”
“What?”
He shrugs. “I thought you knew.”
“You thought I knew?” I gasp, my blood immediately starting boiling.
“Yeah, I thought you knew. Thought that’s why Garrett was so pissed at you. Not that he had any reason to be. He never loved the girl; just fucking her.”
“Jesus Christ, Gray.” I stand up. “What the fuck?”
He doesn’t say a word.
“When I married her because she was knocked up, you didn’t think I should have been given a heads-up?” I start pacing back and forth.
“Not like the lines of communication in this family are that open, Gage, but no, I didn’t think some girl would do that kind of shit.”
“Three years ago, we knew I wasn’t his father, Gray. Three. And you never once said a damn word.”
He hangs his head and looks at the floor.
“Why? Why the hell wouldn’t you fucking say something?”
“In this family, we don’t talk! We fucking don’t. We look the other fucking way. That’s what we do! He’s our fucking brother, and he’s a fucking mess! What was I supposed to fucking do, Gage, throw a rock and end it?”
I nearly stumble at his words as a wound opens. I feel like I did so many fucking years ago, when one stone thrown in anger by a much younger me ended a life.
That life wasn’t worth shit.
Chapter Sixteen
Get Off
Phoenix
It has been three days of almost perfection. The perfect parts are Mandee being here and being totally in love with Gage’s house and Falcon’s Landing. She and I watched TV in the man cave, baked cookies, went berry picking, and even went for a swim, but mostly we watched TV.
When she became relentless in asking, I caved and told her that Gage and I have a mutual agreement. And yes, I did tell her we slept together.
She squealed like a giddy little girl, and even clapped her hands.
“It’s not a big deal,” I tell her, and she laughs. “Okay, physically, it’s a big deal, but we both agree that’s it. I’m leaving at the end of September, and he...well, he already left.”
She smiles. “He’ll be back, Phoenix.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” I shrug.
“He likes you. A lot. Like, a lot, a lot.”
I shrug.
“And you, you deserve a man like him.”
“Someday I’ll find someone, but it will be when I want, and how I want. This”—I wave my hand around the expansive and beautiful room—“does not a man make.”
She laughs and shakes her head. “Love’s a lot more complex than that. You don’t get to choose.”
“I can,” I argue.
“You are my best friend, Phoenix Star. You’re stronger than any woman I know. But you wouldn’t know love if it bit you in the bottom.”
“And you do?”
I wish I could take back the words because she looks hurt.
“I know I’ve made mistakes,” she starts.
“You trusted, you believed; you didn’t make a mistake. Those guys were assholes, pieces of shit, broken beyond repair. That’s on them. I’m strong because I choose to be. You’re getting stronger, too.”
“I’ll choose strength because of you. But for me, you need to choose to love.”
When Mandee leaves, I call Mags.
“Come spring me, honey girl.”
And I do.
When Mags is in bed after I make sure she has taken all her medications, and after I make a calendar for the therapy sessions she will have here, the phone rings.
I look at it and see Gage’s name.
I’m nervous. Beyond nervous. The butterfly circus is in town nervous, and as I sit there, watching his name, it disappears.
“Shit,” I say when I realize he hung up.
It rings again.
I don’t make the same mistake twice.
“Hello?” I answer quietly.
“You got Mags to come back to the house?”
I smile at the shock in his voice. “Yeah. I did.”
“Phoenix, you...Fuck,” he grumbles. “Thank you, but are you sure you want all that responsibility? You sure you can handle her? She’s a fucking handful, baths and shit. You sure?”
“No thanks necessary. I adore Mags. And I’ll have you know, I took care of my grandmother while she was...” I pause. Mags and her aren’t in the same situation.
Mags is recovering. My grandmother was dying. “Yes, I can handle it, baths and all.”
“What about work?”
The diner is only a few hours a day. They are closed for another week due to damage from the storm. And the bar...Well, that will be some time before they are up and going. Which reminds me.
I laugh. “You sure made an impression on Will and Mandee.”
“And you?” he asks, his voice lower and raspier.
“Great impression, up until you bailed.” I try to make it a joke, but I’m not too sure I am all that convincing.
“Gotta work, Phoenix.”
“Right. You own some big old construction company, Falcon Construction. This here, the Landing, that’s your escape. Kind of like...” I stop before I say fucking.
“Falcon Construction pays the bills. Pays lots of people’s bills. When it landed in my lap, I couldn’t bail on all those depending on this place.” He sounds annoyed.
“I was kind of joking. I mean, you don’t owe me any explanation or a detailed account of who you are. This was just a thing.”
“Was?” he hisses.
“Sure. I mean, you’re not coming back any time soon, right? I mean—”
“Dealing with some shit here, Phoenix. Don’t fucking flake on me. I’ll be back as soon as I can, and when I get there, I’m going to fuck the hell out of you.”
“Wow, that’s romantic.”
“You want flowers and bullshit, or you want to come twenty times in three days?”
I don’t answer.
“Am I gonna get a damn picture, or do I have to fucking jerk-off to the same goddamn one every day?”
“Jesus, Gage,” I whisper.
“Fucking shit. Fuck. Dammit,” he grumbles under his breath. “Look, I really am fucking glad you’re there, and that Mags is, too, okay?”
“Is that the flowers part or the bullshit?” I ask, kind of joking again.
He sighs, and then chuckles. “Flowers. It’s the flowers.”
“Well, they’re beautiful, thank you,” I say, sitting on the couch.
“You’re fucking beautiful.” He has that raspy, thick tone again.
“Well, you’re kind of beautiful, too.”
“Not sure how to take that.” He laughs a little uncomfortably.
“Take it as a good thing,” I tell him, a smile evident in my voice.
“Told you I’d fuck you like no one else ever has,” he whispers.
“I was not just talking about the sex. I was talking about—”
“Squirt, don’t fuck this up for me.” He groans.
“Okay, fine. Sorry I said a damn thing,” I say curtly.
“Fuck no. Don’t do that shit to me right now. My fucking balls ache. I’m hard as hell, and I need you to fucking talk to me.”
“Oh, my God, Gage, are you—”
“Fuck yes, I am,” he hisses. “Say oh God, Gage one more time.”
I cover my mouth, and then whisper, “You’re jerking off?”
“Dammit, Phoenix,” he sighs.
“Um, sorry? Like I knew what you were doing. I’m not even sure if I’m okay with what you were doing?”
“Fine,” he snaps.
“Fine,” I snap back then hang up the phone.
- You’ve got to be kidding me.
I quickly walk into the den that is now Mags’ room and see her sleeping peacefully. Then I run up the stairs to his bedroom and shut the door behind me.
I drop the phone on his bed and begin to throw off my clothes. Naked and very nervous, I climb into his bed, lie down, and take a selfie.
Then I delete it.
I take another, then another, and another...
- Forget I asked.
- Probably won’t forget.
I thumb through the pictures and find the most flattering one before pushing send.
Ten seconds. Ten seconds of pure torture and self-doubt until my phone rings.
“Hi,” I say softly.
“Fuck, you’re so goddamn hot,” he grumbles.
“Glad you think so,” I half-joke, but I am so glad he thinks so.
“Is this you right now?” His voice rakes over me.
“Uh-huh.”
“Naked, in my bed, wanting to give me what I want?”
“Yeah, Gage,” I whisper my secret.
“You want my cock?”
“I wish you were here.”
“Because you want me to fuck you.”
“Yeah,” I whisper again.
“How wet are you right now?”
“Um...Well, I want you.”
“Reach down and shove your finger inside your tight, little pussy and tell me, dammit. Tell me how wet you are, thinking about me.”
“Gage...” I start to tell him no.
“Do it now,” he hisses. “Fuck, baby, I’m stroking myself, looking at your picture, and I can’t fucking grip it as tightly as your pussy does.”
“Gage,” I whimper as I rub myself.
“How wet?”
“Really, really wet,” I whimper.
“Don’t you touch your clit. Don’t you fucking do it until I tell you to; do you hear me?”
“Uh-huh,” I say as everything inside me gets incredibly hot.
My messenger goes off, and I click on it.
I see his hand wrapped around his...
“Oh, God.”
“Fucking wish I was inside you right now. Wish I could feel your pussy strangle my cock as I fuck you.”
My mouth waters at the delicious sight before me. “I can’t believe that thing was inside of me.”
“Baby...Fuck, I want in you again now. Push your finger inside. I’m fucking you. Tell me how it feels.”
I do as he asks and answer honestly, “Good.”
“Yeah, so fucking good. So. Fucking. Good,” he grunts out, and that sound, the sound he makes before he comes, is sexy as hell. “Rub your clit, baby. Come. With. Me.” Then he groans and hisses, “Fuck yes. Fuck. Yes.”
I hear him and know he’s come. Then he’s quiet. So quiet.
“Gage?”
“Phoenix,” he says, and I swear he yawns. “How do you feel?”
I don’t know why I get emotional, but I do. I don’t want to tell him the truth, but I do. “Empty.”
He’s panting softly in my ear. “Don’t know what to say to that. You do have little fingers.”
I force a polite laugh, and he does the same.
“You good?” he asks.
“Yep,” I lie.
“Text you in the morning.”
“Yep,” I say unemotionally.
He hangs up.
Lying in bed naked, I stare at his picture, and then toss the phone on the bed. I get up and go into the bathroom to shower.
As I wash my hair and body, I still feel empty, totally fucking empty. And I ache for him. No, I ache for his body to fill mine.
“This too shall pass,” I tell myself as I grab the razor and quickly swipe under my arms.
I wake in the morning and throw off his tee-shirt that I wore, hoping his smell and his shirt wrapped around me would be enough to ease the emptiness, the ache. However, as soon as I think of him, it returns.
I dress quickly because being naked in his room worsens the feeling. I pull on underwear and a pair of tan shorts, then a bra and a black tank top.
It’s early, so it’s still chilly. I grab a sweatshirt and go into the bathroom where I run his brush through my hair, and brush my teeth.
When I’m done, I run down the stairs and make my way quietly to Mags’ room.
“Good morning, honey girl,” she says, sitting up.
“Good morning, Mags.” I smile. “What would you like for breakfast?”
“I’d like to use the bathroom first,” she says, slowly moving to the edge of the hospital bed.
I bring her the walker, and she makes a face.
“You’ll be done with it soon and on to the cane,” I remind her.
Mags, her doc
tor, and I met before she signed herself out. He was insistent that she stay another week because she needed twenty-four-hour care. She told him she had done one week in the hospital, and another the place they called a rehab center, and she only saw a damn nurse at shift change, and had been getting herself to the bathroom and eating just fine.
I’m pretty sure the nurses avoiding her had nothing to do with them and everything to do with her not so pleasant demeanor. I certainly wasn’t going to say a thing, though.
I follow her slowly into the bathroom where she raises an eyebrow and points toward the door.
“Okay, okay.” I laugh as I walk out.
I stay outside the door until she comes out, and when she does, she has her robe on.
“Let’s go eat before I take those damn pills that make me even more cranky,” she says, and I nod.
Mags sits at the huge table, looking out the window as I make our coffee.
“What would you like for breakfast? Eggs, bacon, pancakes?”
“How about some toast and peach jam? Should be inside that massive pantry over there.” She points to the door in the corner.
I open the door and walk into the pantry, looking around.
“Should be on the right.”
I grab one of the many jars of peach jam and walk out, closing the door behind me.
I look at the label that says, Pat’s Preserves.
“Is Gage personal friends with this Pat person?” I ask, walking over to the counter.
Mags laughs. “I’d say so, yes.”
I look at her and smile.
“Patrick Kelly was his father, my husband’s best friend. Both died in service to our country.”
“So, Gage...” I pause for her to explain.
“Gage was adopted by Armando Falcon, after his mother Gail married him. Gage was three, and that boy has been my boy since the day he was born. Gail and I got each other through the losses.”
“Did you ever remarry?” I ask.
“No. Never wanted to. Might have if I had a boy like she did. Boys need a father.”
“So, Pat’s Preserves?”
“Gage and I make jam every year; have since he was a little boy. Sell it online. And that, honey girl, is how I make money.”
“Really?” This surprises me.
“You think I just make moonshine?”
I laugh. “I think there is a whole lot about you that I don’t know. And Mags, I can’t wait to find out everything.”
She chuckles, shaking her head.